


To Bethlehem

by wanderinghero (5years)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Emotional Baggage, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Stargazing, felix has identity issues, really good emotional diarrhea, well mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:48:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22631311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/5years/pseuds/wanderinghero
Summary: “I’m so tired, so, so tired of being Felix-fucking-Fraldarius.”“I think Felix Fraldarius is pretty amazing. the one I have now—““You don't know who you have now. how can you know if I don't know,” comes a muffled voice against his chest.Sylvain squeezes him tighter.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 2
Kudos: 69





	To Bethlehem

It had been just them. always.

Sylvain was one for nostalgia. They had once been two children under a blanket of stars connecting the lights in the sky to make constellations in their youth. Sylvain would have pointed some out to Felix every so often, he’d remember. Felix had always told him he was smart.  
These days, it was a bit harder to get Felix to relive their younger years.  
Normally, the events would play out as such: an invitation for Felix to join him outside for a stroll would be extended, Fe would tell him to get lost, go chase a tail, and Sylvain would take him by the wrist and drag him behind him anyways. Felix always complained he had better things to do, but was usually the first to lay down in the long, soft grass on top of the hill closest to the stars, and was usually always the first to order Sylvain to ‘sit down already’, too.  
They’d stare up at the stars, like they’d used to. in silence at first, usually.

Conversations would always begin and end in the same order— Sylvain would start the conversations, Felix would always end them.

Sometimes the conversations would begin with ‘I saw Venus last night’, and sometimes they'd start with ‘I’m sorry’. 

Felix would usually reply with nothing at all. 

When under the stars, Sylvain would start, Felix would end. Always. That’s how it had always been, and always would be. Tonight, with the wind tousling hair, and the rustle of grass against skin, tonight was no different. 

“Do you ever remember when we were really little, and you--” 

The sudden sound of a warm body shooting up is heard next to him, peering over with dark, catlike eyes. Sylvain only smiles back up at him.

“I do remember the time. I remember everything.”  
“But you didn’t even hear what I was going to say?”  
“I fucking remember, okay?”

Felix would ease back down on the grass, his hands lacing together over his stomach, looking up at the clouds with a new knit in his brows that Sylvain had not seen in a blue moon. It seemed more guarded than angry.  
It was Sylvain’s turn to lift up from the grass, rolling to his side and resting the weight of his body on his elbow, cradling the back of his head and watching the other’s face.

Felix’s voice trembles, and Sylvain is sure it breaks his heart.

“Could you stop with that shit? I remember all of it.”

Sylvain would look over, perplexed at the way Felix was speaking right now. Fe never spoke like this. Never in that hushed tone, the one that he saved normally for when they were truly ever completely alone, when Felix knew that no one had the possibility of hearing him. It sent a shiver up and down Sylvain’s spine, a sharp, hot spike of something akin to the feeling of a thoron spell cast wrong, similar to what had scarred Felix’s arm just two years earlier. 

Felix would continue, this time sounding more distraught, angrier, emotions bubbling like they were water forced to be stuck near-overflowing at the top of a container, bullied into never spilling just how nature wanted it to, for fear of it all rushing out. 

“I’m tired of hearing how things were. I’m tired of hearing ‘oh, you were like _this_ be-fucking-fore. you were so sweet, Felix, what happened? you’d be so much better to be around if you stayed how you did. What went wrong? Who didn't hug you?’ I’m sick… I’m sick and fucking tired, Sylvain, of hearing that I’m not who everyone thinks I am anymore. how am I supposed to know who I am, when I’m not even allowed to be anything but the shadow of another.” 

His voice is raggedy, unsteady with emotion, sounding like his heart had taken a hold of his throat and throttled it as he spoke, “I’m so tired, so, so tired of being Felix-fucking-Fraldarius. Of being Rodrigue’s bastard of a son, of being Glenn’s pisspoor replacement, and of being that boar’s keeper.” 

He looks away from Sylvain, blinking a glimmer in his eyes that the older boy knew would irritate Felix if they dared spilled onto his cheeks.  
“All anyone thinks when they interact with me is the thought that I should be someone else. I can't even recognize who I am in the mirror. if ‘I is another’, then hes piss-fuckin’-poor. I just want to be someone else. anyone else.” 

Sylvain leans down closer, shielding Felix from the sun and casting a shadow over the other boy with his own body, with the width of his shoulders. looking down, he was struck a bit, reminded of the face he had grown up seeing. he had always thought Felix was plenty beautiful. always, always. as kids, Fe had been incredibly cute, what with his big, weepy eyes, and his soft, warm, little hands, grasping onto the fabric of his shirt and begging for him to take him along on his hunting trip with his father. Sylvain had always refused. Felix had always been too fragile, too soft, too small, too warm, too sensitive.

Now, despite it all, he was all that and more. but Felix was _complicated_ now. he was still sensitive, despite not wanting to admit it— he never wept real tears anymore, never tugged on the cuff of his sleeves, never asked him to take him along, nor begged for Sylvain to stay with him-- it was harder to discern now.  
but, who was Sylvain, if not a man observant to other people’s reactions of him? he could still read Felix like the back of his hand. he may have been complicated, but Sylvain knew nuance.

He knew that ‘fuck off’ meant _‘i’m overwhelmed with how close you are to me. it makes my chest hurt. i can't breathe’._ ‘go and die, see if i care’ meant _‘i want you to stay with me here. you’ll be safe with me. I don't want you to leave me behind’._  
Angry shoves were a touch starved boy’s way of getting what he needed, glares were his way of keeping an eye on him for a touch too long, much too long to be considered anything other than platonic. Felix grabbed at his collar now. his wrists, every now and then.

Everything Felix did was so secretive now, like he wouldn’t allow himself the pleasure of feeling anything.

Sylvain knew why, of course. Felix had gotten older. he’d been through many things.  
big and weepy eyes had been replaced with a sharp glint of the eye, as if Felix had become prey too long predated on, something smart and fleeting, heart guarded up in thorns and iron, cheeks pale with due to regular dances in close proximity to Death.  
Glenn’s death meant the loss of the mirrored half of Felix’s heart— Rodrigue’s death meant Felix had lost the mirror altogether. All he had left were memories and associations, other people telling him what they thought he looked like, who he acted like he was, who they never thought he’d live up to be.  
Emotions did not mean so much when others would plaster them on you for you.

Sylvain places his fingertip on Felix’s jaw, tilting his face towards him again, looking down at him with a warm sort of something swimming in his eyes, and speaking low— just for them.  
“you are yourself, first and foremost. that includes everything you have ever been, loved, and hated. that's what makes you _you._ ” he eases down with a heavy sigh, pulling Felix’s arms close together within his own into a hug that enclosed him. kept him warm, close to his heart. 

“I think Felix Fraldarius is pretty amazing. the one i have now—“  
“You don't know who you have now. how can _you_ know if I don't know,” comes a muffled voice against his chest.  
Sylvain squeezes him tighter.  
“Look at you, ruining the mood— be quiet. I know you. I know you're your own person, and that you can’t be compared to anybody else. I also know that I don't think I'd be here without you, so i'm glad that you're with me. i would not want anyone else.”

Felix is silent for a few moments. it seemed like he was thinking, mulling over Sylvains words, embedding them deep within himself in some algorithmic input to spit out something worth words.

It takes a bit. 

“You would've been fine without me.”  
“That's not true.”  
“It is. I wouldn't be harping on your ass everyday for being an annoying bastard.”  
“Fuck, Fe, and who would I be without that? I think I'd be worse off than I am now. I'd probably be dead in some well by now, thrown in because I'd gotten too full of myself.”

More silence. 

And more.

And then Sylvain feels a tightened grip on the back of his shirt, Felix balling his fists up in its fabric, and a muffled sort of hiccup paired with a feeling of warm wetness seeping through the front of his shirt, at his chest. Sylvain pets the back of Felix’s hair as they’re sat up to kneel in the grass, under the stars. he holds him close, letting Felix hide his tears in his chest, away from the sky above them.

“I hate when you bring that well up.”

**Author's Note:**

> i am just practicing writing, i dont write so often! so this is just a random practice. also forgive the random ‘i’ and ‘I’s and capitalization errors, i was too lazy to fix them manually.


End file.
